Faye Wong, who shot to fame in the 1990s, performed in front of 6,500 in Singapore.

It’s been a while since my university days when I would sit, translating and memorizing Faye Wong songs.

But, as anyone who has heard me mangling one in a karaoke booth will testify, my enthusiasm has not waned with time.

Last weekend, I saw her perform in Singapore as part of her comeback tour. Like so many things with Wang Fei, to use her Chinese name, her return to the world of pop was as unexpected and unexplained as her disappearance six years ago.

Whatever Ms. Wong’s reasons, they mattered little to her fans. Online ticketing systems crashed due to excessive demand for the Hong Kong and Taipei legs of a tour that also took her to Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou, Nanjing, Changsha and Wuhan. Kuala Lumpur, this Sunday, marks the final international stop before she moves on to Harbin and Chengdu.

Performing in front of 6,500 at the Singapore Indoor Stadium, in a production that got creative input from film director Wong Kar Wai, the singer — who once turned down an invitation to perform at the Beijing Olympics — proved she hasn’t lost the vocal magic that brought her to fame in the ’90s.

Ms. Wong, in her first Singapore appearance in seven years, was characteristically short on words — at least of the spoken variety — merely thanking the audience for their applause with understated xie-xies and a doh-je thrown in for a Cantonese number. That’s not to say the production was minimalist — far from it — with her signature avant-garde costumes, giant screens projecting abstract images and dramatic lighting effects. She even performed two ballads from an illuminated flying chariot.

But with her, it’s the music that does the talking, with her expansive range, clear vocals and ability to make the most unlikely combinations of notes sound melodious, not to mention lyrics that can be as colorful as the outfits. Her song choices ranged from some of her earliest hits, like “Sky” and “I’m Willing,” which received particularly rapturous receptions from the audience, to covers of the Cranberries’ “Dreams” and Sinead O’Connor’s “A Perfect Indian” — the latter in English — and the more recent “To Love.”

As her last number concluded, Wong left the stage. She didn’t return for a curtain call. Instead, a giant mirror rotated to reflect the audience, as if to say: “Now, time to focus on your own lives,” as her haunting rendition of the Buddhist “Heart Sutra” echoed through the auditorium.